Change
by Virg0Luck
Summary: "I am Draco Malfoy. Evil. Cruel. Those two words stare me in the face until they're so close I can't see them properly. Evil. Cruel." He's forced to go on a task by the Dark Lord he hates most. Hermione is forced to do the impossible; find the Hocruxes. Fighting on different sides, but drawn together; haunted by the same ghosts; they find comfort in the most unlikely place... DMHG
1. Prologue: Dead

**Hi, guys! I'm really worked up right now. I'm INCREDIBLY sorry I haven't been on ff for ages, and I haven't updated Insanity... you see, I moved, and then I had NO INTERNET. I've been literally DYING. Ask Tris. Okay. I'm using a temporary device which my dad got which FINALLY worked and I'm really happy and yeah. Okay, sorry, I'm rambling... SO! Back to productive stuff. **

**This was up a few months ago under the same name. It was really crap so I pulled it down. I started using it as a writing exercise, because it's first person and I get to 'explore' their heads, which is actually really fun... and it sounds so sad. So. It starts out quite dark, hence the name for part one- 'darkness'. But within a few chapters it WILL pick up. I'm already on chapter 12, and all chapters are 1000 words plus after this one... this is just the prologue, so... **

**You can probably tell how hyped up I am. I'll shut up now.**

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**Part One: Darkness**

**Draco Malfoy**

**Prologue: Dead**

Sit up. Stay up. Shower. Sit. Stare. Sit. Stare. Eat. Lay down. Stay down. Don't sleep.

Repeat.

That's my pattern, isn't it?

Nothing else. I'm like a zombie.

I always used to imagine my parents dying. Is that normal? I imagined explosions filled with green light, I imagined their funerals. Was that ordinary for a seven-year-old boy? Or was it the Dark Lord?

I thought I'd scream; cry; shout; die, even; but I never thought I'd turn into this when it happened. I didn't think I would just… stop living. In that way, I suppose I have died.

Wow, for once I was wrong. I admit it.

They would have a heart attack. The 'Golden Trio.' The three I was insanely jealous of for six years of my life. What a waste of energy.

A humourless laugh almost escapes my lips. Almost. But not quite.

I haven't laughed in a while.

I don't particularly want to.

But I will.

I have to.

No matter what they were to everyone else, to me they were family. The two people I went home to every holiday, to love, no matter how well they hid it. My father didn't love me. But he cared. He showed it through criticism. My father told my mother not to show affection, because it would make me weak. How did he know? How did he know that losing the ones you loved tears you apart? Rips you into shreds and leaves you to die? Kills you? No, doesn't kill you! It tortures you slowly, slowly, like the Cruciatus but worse, so much worse. So much worse. Because emotional pain is worse than physical pain. But when you're going through both-

When your parents are dead and an evil lord is in your home and he's torturing you physically for not killing-

Punishment for not killing. It's ludicrous. Insane. Killing is what should be punished. Killing is what used to be punished. But when he takes over, when all hell breaks loose-

I need to learn to live. I'm a corpse, otherwise.

Nothing more. Unimportant. Unloved.

**Okay, because this was really short, I'll ask for... 5 reviews for an update? Thanks :) **

**Also, tris-everdeen99 has started a new fic, ****_Carousel_****. It's amazing- check that out as well! **

**Love you all,**

**Ell xx**


	2. Beginning

**Hi guys! I finally managed to update! Okay, thank you guys for the reviews XD I think most of you liked the prologue... that's good. Awesome. Okay, so this is the first 'proper' chapter- I'm actually borrowing my friend's laptop for this because my internet ****_still _****hasn't arrived... moving truly does suck...**

**Each chapter for ****_Change_**** will be split into a few parts. Each part is in a different character's POV, and I hope you like it. Each part has this thingy in italics... just ignore them if you don't like them and bear in mind this was completely random... Okay I'm rambling. Sorry. Enjoy this chapter! xx**

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**Part One: Darkness**

**Four Months Later**

**Chapter One, Part One: Shades**

_Alone.  
You just want to curl up and die, but… you can't.  
You have to keep going. It's not really a choice.  
It's something more._

**Draco Malfoy**

Sometimes it strikes me that I shouldn't be mourning my parents. They died four months, six days and thirteen hours ago.

Numbers. I keep count. It keeps me from going insane.

I shouldn't, actually, be mourning.

Why would I? He insulted everything about me; she was too scared to love me; I have no happy memories.

None.

My master- I call him that for lack of a better word, though right now 'controller' sounds better- doesn't care. He took their life. He's never shown remorse.

Though he never showed remorse for murdering anyone; why now?

I lie in bed, just… thinking.

My manor- it still sounds strange to me, _my _manor- is dark. Haunting.

I almost wish that Potter had defeated him. Just shows how much I hate this life; putting my hope in my childhood enemy.

That's all it was, though, wasn't it? Just childish ribbing?

I disliked Potter because he turned my offer of friendship down; disliked Weasley because Potter chose him over me; it escalated.

But with Granger, it went deeper than that.

I'm not guilty, though. Don't get me wrong. I still hate them. Her most of all.

Mudblood.

That's the word I hate the most; yet, with my use of it, you would think it's my favourite. But Granger deserves it; know it all mudblood bitch that she is…

At least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself.

I get up, sighing, because I know he's expecting me. I pick up my wand and mutter "_Time_." The numbers appear in black on the blank white wall in front of me. **06:59**.

I have until half seven, usually. Before our 'meeting'. Less of a meeting, it's a bunch of cowards going to take orders from a sadistic maniac.

I haven't slept past seven since fifth year, I think. Couldn't. Two years I've gone without a good night's rest.

If I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to. Sleep, I mean. I just… dream. Plagued with nightmares every night, who would want to sleep? Maybe the Golden Trio. But I'm not so brave. Not so brave it almost seems suicidal.

I'm a Slytherin. We always think to save our own skins.

Or, so the stereotypes say.

This is a mindless existence. I behave like a corpse. I just go through an endless routine.

In the corner of my mind, I realise I won't be able to go to Hogwarts.

I'll never see Slytherin Dorms again. Never graduate. Never see anyone. Never bully first years. Never taunt Zabini or Nott. Never shove Pansy away.

I suppose that's good… but I'll miss her.

And Zabini.

And Nott, even.

Slytherins can feel. They just choose not to show it; that way, we can't get hurt.

There's an owl at the window.

I open the window and wrench the paper out of its claws, tearing the corner off.

I look at this morning's _Daily Prophet_.

Oh, great. A Skeeter piece.

I don't know why I even bother reading anymore.

The word count, perhaps. Yesterday's word count was seven thousand, eight hundred and sixty- three, give or take a word.

Counting, numbers, all of it keeps me sane. There are forty- six different colours of green silk on my bed cover- it's multi-coloured green patches- and the painting on my wall; the only pleasant one of my parents; uses eighty- nine colours. I figured it out, and then went to the artist to check. I was right. Of course I was.

The books on my wall? I reorganise them often, by author's last name or bizarre ones like the sixth letter of the sixth word of the sixth chapter of each book. It's pointless, but time consuming.

And then there's the shades. Those in-between moments of colour. Impossible to count.

It's not so much the numbers that keep me going, though. It's the colour.

Not much colour left in my life.

Unless you count black; but, of course, black is a shade.

**Chapter One, Part Two: Memory**

_Memory. It's beautiful. Beautiful, but terrible. Because when you lose it… you lose everything._

**Hermione Granger**

I wake up. Today's the day when I make them forget.

Do I tell them? That plagues me. But I won't, because that information will remain with them. The last, most important memory is the one that's most likely to be found, should they find Wendell and Monika Wilkins in Australia.

Another tear drips down my cheek. No, I have to be strong. For the parents that won't know I exist.

I walk down. Down. Each stair seems to be leading me to my death. But I have to do this for Harry, for me, for the world.

It sounds so noble, so brave, when you say it like that. For the world. The world depends on it. The world doesn't depend on it, though. I could leave my parents like this…

Wandless? To die? To torture? No. I couldn't do that to them.

Strong, Hermione. Breathe. You'll survive. You'll survive. You have to be strong.

The cream- coloured carpet absorbs each last drop of my salty tears.  
Stop crying.

I see them; they're watching TV. The temptation to leave them almost overwhelms me. Leave them peaceful, erect some wards…

But I know I can't.

This is for their safety. I hope they'll understand.

I raise my wand, and before I can stop it, that word escapes my lips:

"_Obliviate._"

I watch as they slowly lose a spark in their eyes; their memory of me. I stun them quickly, hoping they'll understand if- no, when- I find them after this war.

I delve into their minds, feeling awful, sick, Slytherin; no, I'm being sterrotypical... still, this is so unlike me. I wipe out any trace of this life, of coming here.

Planting in the new memories. The longing for Australia, the plans for a child, the thought that they are five years younger. They might have another child. I wonder if they'll name her Hermione, if it's a girl. Hermione Wilkins.

She won't be me.

**So... like it? Hate it? Comment if you want to, flame if you really feel like it (jks.) Okay- I'm aiming for 15 reviews? Thanks XD**

**Ell xx**


	3. Cruelty

**Kay, hi... xx Thanks loads for all the reviews! They made my day. Days.  
This chapter is less things- are- happening, and more thoughts- very like Draco's thoughts in the last chapter, except his are very random in this one. Things will pick up in a bit, though, I promise... I've already written quite a bit of this story. I will update again on Tuesday, because that's the day before my birthday :) so can we see how many reviews we can get to in two days? I'll update no matter what, though. Enough of my rambling- moving on...**

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**Part One: Darkness**

**Chapter Two, Part One: Choices**

_Choice. We all have that right, to make decisions. _

_Apparently, not everyone._

**Harry Potter**

I'm… empty, sort of. Not filled with fire. Not filled with determination. Not filled with anything at all that makes me want to find those Horcruxes.

It seems like an impossible task: go out into the world, Harry, just trust blindly, and find all those pieces, and kill Voldemort, and live, and love.

Sometimes, I resent Dumbledore for it.

Others, I feel guilty for my resentment.

Look at what everyone's doing for me. Tomorrow, I leave for the Burrow.

"Potter!"

Vernon Dursley.

Another argument.

I sigh. Go down. Argue. Win.

Come up… lay down… and almost wish that I never get up.

Almost.

But not quite.

Some small part of me feels selfish.

But then sleep comes to claim me, and I welcome it, because I know my time with it won't last.

In my dream, I'm in Hogwarts.

There is darkness everywhere, just darkness, punctuated by the occasional flame and… _that. _His mark.

It is eerie, calm, silent where I am… at the Astronomy Tower.

I watch; almost like it's slow motion; as Malfoy disarms Dumbledore.

Same dream, same nightmare, same hell.

But this time, I see what I've been missing, all these other times; and that's the look of agony on Malfoy's face.

And I wake up.

Same light sheen of sweat beaded across my forehead, same gasp as I wake up.

But I remember the look on his face, and it's haunting. He looks…. Tortured. Afraid.

And not for the first time, I wonder if maybe, just maybe, he didn't make that choice. If it was made for him.

**Chapter Two, Part Two: Fear **

_It takes over your mind, consumes everything, and blurs out everything else._

**Draco Malfoy**

Four months, six days and 18 hours.

Exhaustion. When he goes into my mind, it takes everything I have not to reveal my hopes of Potter killing _him_. I can't bring myself to think his name.

And suddenly a young Granger is piping up in my mind. _"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."_

Bet she didn't know just how true those words were.

It's amazing how afraid the wizarding world, myself included, (and I'm part of his inner circle, replacing Lucius) is of his name. The Dark Lord.

Dark Lord. Dark Mark. Dark Magic.  
All dark, all evil, all ringing warning bells to all sane people left out there.

And occasionally, I'm wondering if Potter had the right idea. Run off. No one's seen them. But Hogwarts is due to start in a few weeks.  
I wonder where Snape is.

I hate that man. Hate everything about him, with everything I have. Not many people evoke such strong feelings from me; I can count them on one hand.

Snape  
Potter  
Weasley  
Granger  
The Dark Lord

But no, I can't count them. I missed out myself.

I've just managed to avoid committing murder.

It's such a soft word to begin with. Murder. With the first three letters.

Then you hit the hard part, the D, and you realise just how ugly that word is. Murder. Murder.

Strange, though, that the word kill is so much worse. In sound, at least.

What's worse? To murder or to kill?

Some would argue it's the same thing. A life ended. A life taken. A life stolen, ended early.

I've watched murder.

Bellatrix kidnapped a mudblood child. Just eleven.

I watched as she sliced her open with a knife the hot red blood gushing out before she said those words that took her life that stole her life that murdered and killed and-

I won't kill.

I'm afraid, I suppose.

Fear.

Fear isn't real. It's only in our minds. As are all emotions, to some extent. They begin in our minds.

I wonder why we feel emotion.

It just complicates things. Wouldn't life be easier if we were all cold, unfeeling? Without complications? That would help a hell of a lot.

But no. Look at _him. _Look at Bellatrix. I refuse to call her Aunt Bella.

No, the name Bella implies beauty, soft, kind, sweet.

It's missing the cold, hard, T, X.

Bellatrix.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Look at her last name. Le Strange.

Bella. Tricks. The. Strange.

Her name, like herself, is mad. Insane.

All of these thoughts have occurred within less than a minute. I look around at my blank white walls.

At the portrait.

At my bed sheets.

No colours left to count.

I lift up my wand.

I have tortured with this wand; he forced me. On Snape, because he did my task. He killed Dumbledore.

The Cruciatus Curse is quite addictive, I learned.

I am evil. I am cruel. I am Draco Malfoy. Dragon. Fierce. Violent. Evil. Cruel. Evil. Cruel. Evil. Cruel.

Those two words stare me in the face until they're so close I can't see them properly.

Out of the blue, I think of prejudice.

What an awful word. Prejudice.

And yet, we all succumb to it.

I am prejudiced.

But my prejudice is true. It's true.

Just… the Dark Lord's way isn't right.

_Evil. Cruel._

**Chapter Two, Part Three: Thoughts**

_Traitorous, sometimes, when you're thinking bad things about your friends. Your family. But you can't help it. Helplessness is the worst feeling, though. No. Not the worst. Maybe after fear._

**Ron Weasley**

"…Ready?" I ask Hermione.

She nods, biting down on her full bottom lip. "Yeah."

We apparate to number 4, Privet Drive, me trusting that Hermione's disillusionment charm will hold. Of course it will.

I hear a few more small pops indicating the other members of the Order are here.

_"Alohomora!"_ Hermione whispers. The door opens.

Honestly, Muggles should get better locking systems.

We walk in and close the door before removing our disillusionment charms, Moody looking around- paranoid git- to make sure no Death Eaters came in with us, or something stupid like that.

I look around, feeling slightly dejected at the gleaming floors, the huge space, the lavish furnishings.

Harry's family is rich. Evil, but bloody hell, they're rich.

I always knew Harry was rich. He's rich, famous and good- looking. I'm poor, no one knows me and I'm the ugly, gangly one.

I know. I've always known. It hits me sometimes, though, out of the blue, and it hurts.

To be honest, I'm not sure why.

Harry appears. Hermione flings her arms around him.

I wince. I hate this feeling. The feeling where you think the girl you like likes your best friend.

Like, love, I don't know.

We're going to be turning into Harry. I wonder what it'll be like; turning into the person you know best and envy most.

**I have to say I really enjoyed writing Ron- I used to hate him (typical Dramione shipper ;)) and now I'm writing him and it's really fun. Yep. I sound _so _sad...**

** Okay, update on Tuesday- but what did you think of the chapter?**

**Thanks for the reviews again... XD**

**Ell xx**


	4. Attack

**I found the file for Change! Well done, me! Sorry it's been so long since an update, guys, but I hope you enjoy this. xx**

**Part One: Darkness**

**Chapter Three, Part One: Flying**

****_Flying. Freedom. Behind that veil, you're free. But then, so is everyone else. Free to kill._

**Harry Potter**

I'm uncomfortable. Something's telling me that this is going to go wrong.

I scan the skies; difficult to do, from this position; but I don't see anything.

_Duh._ If Voldemort was here, I think he might just be able to make himself invisible, Harry.

I twist to face Hagrid. He looks almost _eager_. Sometimes I forget he's part giant, and I remember like this.

Hagrid's always been like family since first year, but after the Ministry in fifth year…

As always, my thoughts go back to Sirius.

He was like a father/brother mix. Too reckless to be a father, too protective to be a brother. Somewhere in between.

I'm jerked out of my thoughts when I hear the engine start up on Sirius' bike.

Sirius again.

He's everywhere; in the house he left me, in the school I loved, in the bike I'm sitting in, in every black dog I see.

Gone.

It's quite scary when you put it into perspective, actually; death, I mean. Especially with magic. One second someone's here, one second they're gone.

Just… gone. Slipped out.

_Behind the veil_.

No, stop, don't think of death, because it makes me want to die… almost. I have so much to die for. James, Lily, Sirius.

I wonder when I started referring to my parents by their first names.

I have so much to die for.

But more to live for, right?

I don't sound so sure to myself. I know I'm lying to myself, and that sometimes there's nothing I want more than to just slip away.

But then I remind myself. Ginny, Hermione, Ron. I love them- in different ways, as I love Ginny like a… love, love Hermione as a sister, love Ron as a friend.

I feel a vibration. The bike starting. We're actually going through with this.

I look at the other six Harrys, and silently wish that they'll all make it through the night.

**Chapter Three, Part Two: Attack**

_That moment, the 'calm before the storm'. The moment before everything goes wrong, where you know it won't stay like this but you want to believe anyway. It's a delusion. A dream. _

**Ron Weasley**

We're flying. I'm with Tonks, and I feel guilty. About Lupin, I mean. Remus. My hands are on her waist, and she doesn't seem to have a care in the world about it, but we caught sight of Remus and his expression was less than pleased. I feel bad, but I can't exactly let go, can I? Not unless I want to fall to my death.

I'm Harry. Earlier, when she talked about how Harry's Polyjuice looked _tasty_, I wanted to rip his insides out. Why would she say that, unless she was flirting with him? _Why_? He had a gold Polyjuice! So what? And afterwards- she was examining herself as Harry with an interest that had to have been _far _from normal. I just had to mention that lack of a tattoo, and I said it in a light tone, but there was a reason I did it and it was to make sure Hermione noticed.

I feel awful. Guilty. I shouldn't be thinking this! He's my best friend, for Merlin's sake! I _know _he's not interested in her like that! He's too busy messing _Ginny _around, my younger _sister_, which doesn't really do much to help-

When did the Death Eaters start descending around us? With heavy black robes and wands aimed to kill? With flashes of green, of murder in a spell flying everywhere? With the clouds and the Death Eaters, I can't see anything. I don't know whom I'm attacking, whether it's friend or enemy, whether it's Harry or You- Know- Who, but I don't care. I don't care. I just don't care. I need to fight and I guess this is survival instinct, but I'm yelling and firing hexes and feeling grateful to Harry for teaching us in fifth year-

Is that Mad- Eye falling? Is that George being hexed? Is that Hermione?

I yell at Tonks that we have to move, we have to help everyone, and she tells me no, we need to get to our safe house, we have to get to our safe house because otherwise we'll _die _and the plan will be ruined-

There are spells flying everywhere, green and silver and red and blue and all different colours and it strikes me that this is a sick kind of beauty. Two spells collide; mine and a death eater's, and they explode in a shower of sparks. I stun and hex and jinx and hit and hope that everyone is alive, that everyone will make it, and suddenly I feel guilty for thinking those thoughts about my best friends earlier and then blackness is clouding my vision but the adrenaline keeps me going and I'm blindly firing everywhere I can-

**Chapter Three, Part Three: Hope**

_It's considered weak, isn't it? But sometimes, it's all that keeps you from curling up and wishing you'd die. And that can't happen. So you hope._

**Ginny Weasley**

I'm just standing, feeling useless, feeling like a child. I'm not. I'm not. Only a year younger than the rest, only six months younger than Harry technically. Yet they insist.

_Oh, Ginny, you're too young! Stay away from Harry, from the Order, from everything that matters to you, because you're too young! It doesn't matter that you've gone through so much! No, just sit home and be safe because that's what matters._

I know my mum means well, but she's pushy. I love her all the same, though.

We're waiting, mum and I, for them to return. Someone, anyone, just to tell us 'it's okay. They're all on their way.'

Harry. Ron. Hermione.

It all revolves around them, doesn't it? Whatever happens, they're in the thick of things. I wonder if Harry, when he was alone at Privet Drive two summers ago, wondered if I was just as lonely. Left out. Ron was… Ron, meaning he pretty much ignored me, and Hermione was sweet but she was still… distant. Hermione and me weren't quite as close then as we are now, after she gave me advice about Harry and came to _me _because she felt none of the girls in her year understood about Ron. I was left out. Alone. Bored. In my room all day, my mum didn't let me read the Daily Prophet sometimes because she didn't want it to poison me! And through all that, the message didn't go through to her: _I'm not a child!_

Is that a blue light? Is that a Portkey? The flicker of hope has me and mum hurrying outside, both of us praying it'll be someone _alive _and safe and… well, for me… Harry.

I'm hoping for Harry. Longing for him. I know I should think of my family first, but it's Harry. It's always been Harry. He broke it off a few months ago, saying You- Know- Who would target me, but then he wouldn't be _my _Harry if he didn't.

It's him. Relief floods through me, but it's short lived, quickly replaced by fear. Ron and Tonks and Dad and Fred are all missing and they should all have been back my now and it's terrifying me because Harry's talking about an ambush, they knew, they knew-

Harry turns to me.

"Ron and Tonks missed their Portkey, it came back without them." I start to explain, pointing at an old oilcan. "Dad and Fred should have come back with that plimsoll, but they missed that too. They were first and second. You and Hagrid were third, and George and Lupin should turn up in about a minute if… if they made it…"

I only allow my voice to crack- just a little- at the end. I'm scared. I'm scared for my family. I'm scared for the adults. I'm scared for everyone going on this suicide mission. Harry's back, their purpose for going is back, so why can't they appear? I want more than anything for Fred and George to pop out and yell 'suckers!' at us for thinking they were…

They. Are. Not. Dead.

Hope is what keeps me going, though it's running out fast.

**I just adore writing Ron's POV. Weird, right? Thoughts? **

**Ell xx**


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